Enjoy the Silence

Continued from Enjoy the Silence 1

"Can I ask you a personal question, Emma?"

"Yes, anything," she said.

"Is your, ehm, you know..."

"Our sex life?"

"Yes, sorry," I said.

"It's non-existent, Chris," she said. "We haven't been intimate in months."

Part 2 of 3

I held her hand as she retreated into herself. I had known Emma for years from when she worked as a team manager in Ernst and Young. She was a strong, intelligent woman, highly qualified and decorated in her field of expertise. Pursued by a legion of top professional men, she left the job after she married Jake and seemed to just waste her life away sitting at home all day.

She was as beautiful sitting on that stool in my kitchen, her eyes red and her skin mottled from tears, her fair hair tousled and unkempt, as she was when I'd first laid eyes on her. I remembered how tongue tied I'd become in her presence, fearing that every syllable I uttered was puerile, juvenile, and inappropriate. It was during the practical site module of my training program where we were installing the first phase of a new AC unit in their old office building at Park Place before they moved to bigger premises in the Harcourt Centre.

Emma worked in Economic Statistical Analyses and she was standing in front of a fake tree in the reception of the building. She was being interviewed by an RTE TV crew about the Government Budget estimates that had been released the day before. I recalled taping that interview at home and watching it over and over again. I remembered how assured she was, how sharp her analysis had seemed, and how comfortable she appeared to be in front of the cameras as she gave breath to her succinct interpretation of the available data.

I was waiting for them to finish so I could pull a fifteen foot stepladder into the lobby to access a vent in the duct running overhead, so I watched her, entranced, as she dealt with all of the delays and the stupid questions posed by the interviewer. She had looked at me and raised her eyebrows at yet another delay while the guy did a piece to camera, stopping every so often to have makeup applied to his face. I smiled at her and mimicked patting my face as she tried not to laugh, brushing some imaginary dust from her white blouse and sliding her hands over her slim body in tense anticipation.

We got to know each other gradually over the six month period, bumping into each other at odd moments around the site during the day. We danced with each other at the EY Christmas party, where she also danced with every male employee present. I felt humbled when she finally sat down beside me at the end of the evening and necked one of the spare drinks I'd bought when the bar closed at midnight. I was on autopilot that night, nudging the line that was my alcoholic limit, and my bravery was unbound.

"You can drink that if you want, Emms," I said as she skarfed the last of the beer down.

She banged the empty glass down on the table, belched, and laughed at the look of pantomime shock on my face.

"Thank fuck that RTE weren't here to witness that," I said and we almost pissed ourselves laughing.

"Fuck them," she said. "They're all bastards and my dogs are barking."

"Here," I said pushing another of my assembled hoard of drinks in front of her, "sip that this time and put your feet up here in my lap while I massage them for you."

"Pervert!" she said, but kicked off her shoes and lifted her feet into my lap in any case.

"Fucking hell, Emms," I said. "They don't half stink."

"How fucking dare you, Chris Vickery?" she laughed. "My poor toes are screaming at me, why do men not realise that they're standing on someone's toes when they're dancing?"

Her toes were quite bruised and I carefully rubbed them through her stockings. It wasn't my favourite thing and she detected my displeasure.

"Have you got a problem with my hosiery?" she asked.

"No," I said, "my problem is that you call it hosiery. Do you also visit the millinery department in Clery's with all the other old ladies on occasion?"

She leaned forward, trying not to laugh, and whispered in my ear.

"Between the two of us, Chris, I hate wearing tights too."

"I only wear them myself when I'm attending a wedding or if I'm in court or something like that."

"Are you wearing them now?" she asked with a grin.

"No, I don't wear them if I'm hoping to get lucky, it's too awkward for a girl to get them off me," I said.

"Are you hoping to get lucky tonight?"

"I don't ever plan on it, and I sincerely doubt it, but hope springs eternal, doesn't?" I said and we both laughed.

"What would you do if the opportunity presented itself?" she asked.

"I don't know," I said. "Probably not much."

"Why not?" she asked.

"It's hard to do anything when you're flat on your back in shock, unconscious, with three paramedics hammering on your chest."

We continued in this manner for about an hour and agreed to share a taxi home as we didn't live very far from each other. Emma was still living at her parent's house, as was I with mine. When we got into the taxi she put her feet on my lap again and I laughed.

"You're determined to cure me of my alacrity to nylon aren't you?" I said.

"What nylon?"

"You didn't!" I said and felt her bare foot. "You did, you're a shameless hussy Emma Jacobs."

"It's my Christmas gift to you," she said, as my hands shivered along her smooth skin.

"Do I get a Christmas kiss too?" I ventured.

"Would you like one?"

"Yes."

She lifted her feet from my knees and leaned forward to kiss me. It was a quick, almost perfunctory, kiss at first before it deepened as we lingered and her arms pulled me closer. It took me some time to notice that my hand was still on her knee and, as she leaned back into the seat, she pulled me with her and it slipped higher along her thigh under her skirt.

"You're not getting lucky tonight, Chris," she whispered.

"I got lucky already, Emms," I replied. "I got to sit beside you."

"You can touch me," she said as she looked into my eyes.

"What about the taxi driver?" I asked.

"Fuck him, we'll never see him again," she said and her soft lips joined mine as she slipped her tongue into my mouth.

I slid my hand higher along her skin, wallowing in the softness and the intimacy as the whole world became that which my hand was touching. Her legs parted as she invited me to go further, my fingertips testing the fabric of her panties as she sighed into my neck.

"That's nice, Chris," she whispered in my ear.

My finger toyed with the edge of the garment, pausing just as it began to slip underneath.

"Yes," she breathed.

Emboldened, I slipped my finger between her legs, stroking her soft wet flesh, feeling her softness, and hearing her moan as I stroked gently along her vulva. My finger entered her vagina and she groaned agonisingly, taking my lips with hers into a kiss of depth and intimacy I'd previously never felt. I moved my hands to the waistband of her panties and eased them off with just a murmur from her.

"No fucking tonight, Chris, please," she whispered in my ear.

"I need to taste you Emma," I said, "is that ok?"

"Oh fuck yes," she moaned and laid back along the seat as I pushed her skirt higher and touched my tongue to her vulva.

She lifted her leg over my head, allowing easier access to her and I quickly slid my tongue along and over the inner lips of her labia, her clit and down to her vaginal opening as she squirmed in response. My hands were on the skin of her smooth stomach as I quickened the pace of my tongue, her breath shallow as a plaintive sigh didn't quite breach the volume of the music coming from the taxi's radio.

A continuously whispered and anguished, "Chris," drove my spirit to concentrate on her and I felt her body begin to tremble as my hands slid up to her breasts, squeezing them gently as she reached an orgasm that tore her apart, and a stream of musky fluid squirted forcefully into my mouth, causing me to catch my breath as I caught it all and swallowed it down quickly.

I remained on my knees before her, kissing her all over, hoping I'd done it correctly for her, it wasn't my first time to go down on a girl but it was my first experience of a girl ejaculating in that manner and it threw me completely. I could smell the pungency of her release on my skin as I raised myself from my knees and joined her on the seat as she reached for me and held me to her. I stayed with her until she was calm, her gentle tremors had eased and she pulled herself up into a seated position.

"Sorry," she whispered shyly as she tidied herself up,

"Why?" I asked.

"I came all over you."

"I'll never wash my face again, Emma," I said and she kissed me hungrily.

"I..." she started to say but the driver interrupted her.

I walked her to her gate and we kissed briefly, our embrace strong and unwilling to be broken.

"Merry Christmas, Emms," I said.

"Merry Christians, Chris," she said, "can I call you?"

"Yes, anytime of the day or night," I said and watched as she walked shakily to her door and, with a brief look behind and a wave of her hand, she disappeared into the house.

I jumped into the taxi and gave the driver my address. I was outside my house ten minutes later and I was fishing my wallet out to pay the fare when I noticed Emma's underwear on the floor where they had landed. I picked it up and put it in my pocket, intending to return it to her the next time we met but she never called and I didn't have her number. My placement in Ernst and Young had ended on the last day before the holidays and I didn't see her again until my wedding day when our eyes met and remembered. She offered her congratulations in a perfunctory manner as she pulled my ear down to her mouth and asked if I was wearing tights. I hugged her to me and we never spoke of it again.

"Come on," I said, pulling her off the stool by the hand, to lead her into my little office. "I have one thing to find that will give me the certainty I need."

"What is it, Chris?"

"You'll see it if I find it," I said.

I clicked the link that Jess had sent me and entered my Director's key code. A screen opened up showing six email accounts. Jake had two, one that neither of us had known anything about. It held several emails from my wife, mostly with responses to emails of his. The email thread in each message still intact.

"The fucking idiot," I said, relieved that he was an arsehole at heart.

"What's wrong?" Emma asked.

"If he had half a brain he'd use a Gmail or Hotmail account for this," I said.

"But he only has half a brain, that's the trouble," she said and we laughed.

I opened the official account and searched the inbox for emails from Bernie O'Shea.

"What's that for?" Emma asked.

"This guy O'Shea allegedly sent Jake a video of him and Cat having sex in Powerscourt last year. She was down there on the same weekend with three girls from work and one of them confirmed that they were together."

"How did you know that?"

"I keep diaries," I said, "and the idiot used the company card to pay for everything."

"I noticed that," she said.

"What?"

"Chris, I have fuck all to do all day," she said, "so I amuse myself by sifting through the accounts. But more of that later, show me this video."

The search returned a host of emails between Bernie and Jake, each one had an attachment that was something rude, obnoxious, or pornographic. The email in question was the seventh in the list and I looked at Emma as the cursor hovered over the icon.

"You realise that this might change our lives forever, Emms, don't you?" I said.

"I love when you call me Emms, Chris. You're the only one who ever did," she said and stroked my arm. "Open the file."

I clicked it open and the image filled the screen in pure high definition colour. Caitríona was naked on her hands and knees on top of the bed as Jake fucked her mercilessly from behind. He was grunting like a wild boar as she screamed for more. Her breasts swayed roughly with each deep thrust and at times he cupped her breasts and squeezed the life out of her nipples as she screamed for him to be harder and rougher. She was a total stranger to me, but I couldn't look away from the screen, it was like watching a car crash. Emma reached over and stopped the video before pushing me aside and forwarded the clip to both our private emails.

"Before you ask," she said, "we need to make external copies that aren't on the Company's domain address. It can be viewed as corporate malfeasance and sexual harassment in the workplace. We should delete it from the system here too when this is done, along with the hidden account, but we can archive that to both our private accounts."

"How do you know all this?" I asked.

"You forget where I worked for ten years, Chris," she said, "this was every week in EY, we're not special."

I opened other emails from Jessica with the promised spread sheets and printed them off before saving them to a new thumb drive. Emma picked them up and went through them in a flash, her trained eye picking out anomalies as she busily wrote down anything that caught her attention.

"Can I use your phone?" she asked.

"Of course," I said, handing it over.

"Your landline, Chris," she said, impatience in her voice as she seemed to blossom into a new or different persona.

"Yes, it's there beside your hand," I said.

As she dialled she tied her hair back and stuck a pencil into it. I started to listen to her but quickly decided that my time would be better spent elsewhere. I called the Travel Bureau, the company that Jake had opened an account with. I introduced myself and told the girl my enquiry, she put me on hold and handed me off to our account manager.

"Hi, Anton Shean," he said in a crisp English accent, "How can I help?"

"Yeah, hi Anton," I said. "My name is Chris Vickery from Freeform Solutions. I believe we have an account with your company."

"That's correct," he said, "Mr. Scully set it up and I can't speak to anyone but him. I'm sure you understand."

"Yes, I understand, of course," I said. "So the account is in Jake's name is it?"

"No, it's Freeform Solutions," he said, "but Jake set it up."

"I realise that, Anton," I said. "I'm the other director of the company."

"I still can't talk to you," he said.

Emma asked for the phone and I handed it to her, putting it on speaker as I did so.

"Hello? Anton is it?" she said.

"Yes, I already told the other guy... "

"I'm going to stop you there, Anton," she said, "Chris is one of the two officers of the company, I am currently looking through the corporate structure and a few anomalies have been found in your paperwork, the first of which is a flight booking for two people next week, of which we have no record."

"But... "

"As I'm sure you're aware, Anton, given your perceived predilection for pedantry and the disregard for corporate good practice," she said, "this little fact alone leaves you open to a damages claim along with the suspension of your corporate entity until a full investigation takes place, an investigation that I am prepared to instigate the moment I hang this phone up. It's almost as though you have some kind of scam going there with Mr. Scully and it would be remiss of me to ignore that at this point in the investigation."

"What investigation?" he stuttered.

"We can't seem to find any record of invoices for any trips that you have supplied to this company," she said. "All we have are unvouched amounts in our accounts that we have to waste productive time trying to match with trips entered into diaries of work. This is most unsatisfactory and, if this is your normal mode of operation, a full investigation is warranted and will be pursued."

"I don't see how that would have any effect on us," he said.

"No? You do realise that an investigation can take up to six months to complete, depending on the egregiousness of the offences," she said, "during which time you will not be trading, Anton. You won't be allowed to sell even a bus ticket to O'Connell Street. Plus, we would utilise the services of someone like Ernst and Young, KPMG or one of those companies, to conduct the investigation and you would be liable for all fees generated. Can I ask if you rent or own your offices in Hatch Street?"

"They're leased, why?"

"That's a shame," she said, "and are you just a sales rep or something higher?"

"I'm the Managing Director," he said. "Why is this of relevance?"

"If you owned the premises we would just take them off you in part payment for fees. As you only lease them, you, as Managing Director, are personally liable. Now if you still want to hold your position on that information, Mr. Vickery is here beside me and he's given me the word to report this to the relevant authorities."

"I'll email them to Mr. Scully's email address, that's the best I can do. Will that be enough?" he asked.

"I have that open here in front of me," she said. "I'll wait while you send it."

"But... "

"Just send the fucking thing," she said, "you're beginning to piss me off now, Anton. You have thirty seconds and then I'm going to blow your world apart."

"Wait! Wait! I have to dig it all out first," he screamed into the phone.

"Ok, I'll wait," she said, "But while I'm waiting I want details of these flights that were booked for next week."

"Ok, that's two flights from Dublin to Heathrow at 10:15 on Wednesday morning returning Friday morning at 11.50. It includes transfers to and from the airport by limousine."

"What are the names on the booking?" she asked, writing the details on a pad.

"Jake Scully and Caitríona Harrison."

She looked at me and I nodded at the mention of Cat's maiden name.

"Ok, I have that now," she said, "and the cost of the package?"

"€3,380 including taxes and fees."

"That sounds excessive," she remarked.

"They're business class seats with all the bells and whistles," he said.

"Ok, well we'll cancel that booking now, Anton," she said, "Mr. Scully doesn't have the kind of latitude that enables him be so profligate with company funds."

"There's a cancellation fee," he said.

"Not unless it's cancelled inside the 24 hours pre-flight," she said, "that's the way Business Class works. In any case that card will be cancelled in ten minutes time, you'll receive an email to that effect in the next half hour."

She pointed at the screen to indicate the account itemisation.

"Your email just came in, Anton, but I don't seem to have received the one showing the invoices for each trip," she said.

"That'll take me a little longer," he said, "I'll need until mid-afternoon to assemble them."

"You'd better work through lunch then, because I'll be pushing the button on this at 2:00 exactly."

"Please don't," he pleaded, "I'll do my best."

She hung up and handed me back the phone.

"Who the fuck are you and what did you do with Emma?" I asked.

"I used to love this job, Chris," she said, "I'd even do it for free."

"Well while we're on the subject, Emms, would you consider coming on as a Director? We need to appoint two for the IPO," I said.

"Who told you that?" she asked.

"Dickhead."

"You only need one to break a tie in the vote, Chris, but I'd be happy to do it,"

I kissed the top of her head and called the bank to cancel the card. She was right, it only took five minutes. I called Jessica then.

"Hey Chris, how's everything going?" she asked nervously.

"It was tough at first but we're making progress now," I said. "Is Dickhead around?

"He just got back, why?"

"We cancelled the card," I said. "If you see it lying around will you just cut it up or shred and dispose of it?"